Just One Touch Away
by Lunavere
Summary: There were four facts about soulmates that everyone knew. One: every living soul had a soulmate somewhere in the world. Two: in order to identify one's soulmate, one had to make skin-to-skin contact with that person. Three: that soulmates, once they find each other, generally could not bear to be separated. And four: most people never found their soulmates.


**Author's Note:** This is my original story. If you see it posted anywhere else under a different username, PLEASE report it to me at once!

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There were four facts about soulmates that everyone knew. The first was that every living soul had a soulmate somewhere in the world. The second was that in order to identify one's soulmate, one had to make skin-to-skin contact with that person. This could be a simple brushing of fingers or kiss on the cheek. Once they did, a shock of energy would go through both of them. Its intensity and feel varied depending on the two people in the coupling. The third fact was that soulmates, once they find each other, generally could not bear to be separated. The moment they forge that invisible bond, they are tied to one another for the rest of their live. And the fourth and final fact that everyone knew was the fact that most people never found their soulmates. There was an entire world's population to take into account, after all. John knew a bit more about soulmates than most because he was a doctor, but that was only in regards to statistics of soulmate survival if in a crash and one soulmate died and the like. Nothing too significant and nothing too secret. If someone really wanted to know about it, all they would have to do is research soulmates extensively, but the information would be readily available to them.

When he was a child, John heard the stories – two neighbours who had been living next to each other for years accidentally bump into each other and the bond is formed. Or a cashier bumps her hand into that of a good-looking millionaire, and suddenly, she never has to work again. Soulmates were coveted, after all. An object of desire and something to be incredibly jealous about. In his whole life, John had only met one soulmate couple, and it had been like nothing he had ever seen before. They were just in sync with one another in every way possible – sense of humour, movement, personality, likes. And yet they were different enough to have some disagreements. Nothing that ever got too brutal, of course, but having a soulmate didn't mean that it was paradise for the rest of one's life.

When John was invalided back home from Afghanistan, he didn't really give a soulmate a second thought. That was, however, until he met Sherlock. The longer they knew each other, the more John began to wonder if maybe they were destined to be together. But he still couldn't really tell. Sherlock always wore gloves – he wasn't interested in having a soulmate, after all. It would hinder his work, he said, and he was married to his work. So after months of internal debate, John finally decided to do it. He quietly called out Sherlock's name, and when Sherlock looked up, he slowly reached forward with his bare hand. It was a movement that could have easily been rejected, but Sherlock merely closed his eyes and braced himself. John held his breath, and he gently caressed Sherlock's cheek. Nothing. Never before had John been so devastated in his life. Sherlock also looked rather disappointed, but he merely shrugged and continued about his work.

Eventually, they reached a silent agreement after Sherlock gifted John a pair of matching black leather gloves for his birthday. John wore them and refrained from making bare contact with new women, and he was grateful for once that he had managed to have so many girlfriends in his life before he and Sherlock touched. It gave him a sense of freedom since he could still have sex with a variety of women and know that they wouldn't bond as soulmates. Both of them continued about their days and weeks as if the contact had never happened, and both were rather satisfied by the results. But John still wondered who on Earth could be a better fit for him than Sherlock Holmes. Why the Fates, God, Destiny, or whatever deciding force in this world didn't pair the two of them together, he would never understand.

But all of this was in the back of John's mind at that very moment. Because right now, he was strapped up with Semtex, and Sherlock was in danger. When Moriarty finally stood between him and Sherlock – his back to John – he saw his big chance. He yelled for Sherlock to run as he lunged forward, grabbing Moriarty from behind. In the process of doing so, their cheeks brushed. Suddenly, John felt an explosion of energy throughout his entire body. It was painful, and he let out a yelp as he released Moriarty once more and clutched at his cheek. Both of them stared at each other, wide-eyed, as they processed what had just happened. Soulmates. John Watson was the soulmate of one James Moriarty, world's only consulting criminal. He could hardly wrap his head around it.

"John?" Sherlock called out, processing what he had just seen. He would understand it in a moment, John was sure.

"Sights off him!" Jim bellowed up at the rafters. "Now!"

John watched as the sights were hesitantly lowered, relaxing just a touch. Well, at the very least, his life was now basically guaranteed. Spinning on his heels, Jim stalked over to John and began disconnecting the bomb with nimble, rapid fingers. John watched, somewhat awed by Jim's deftness, as the bomb was dismantled. Quickly, Jim yanked the parka off and chucked it into the pool next to them. John let out a shuddering breath as relief washed over him. Then, Jim made eye-contact with him once more, and they both paused for a moment, each one taking the other person in. The bond was already altering his visual perception of Jim. He looked a touch younger now, youthful and spry. Dark eyes drew him in, and the touch of facial hair was… rather cute, given Jim's puppy-face.

It was Sherlock again who broke the silence. "John," he stated, and John instinctively looked over in response, "this cannot be happening. How is this… this… _spider_ is your soulmate?"

Jim jerked around, grinning maniacally. "Jealous, Sherlock? Upset that Daddy's got your blogger now?"

"Hardly," Sherlock stated as Jim slowly approached him. "There have been cases before where soulmates met and never saw each other again. It's possible. John's coming home with me."

Jim laughed as he heard this. "So what? You're going to take John back? Cleave him from his other half just because you don't want to lose this game? That's awfully selfish of you. Quite possessive, too. Seems that my soulmate was in a rather abusive relationship." With that, Jim reached forward and poked Sherlock's nose with one finger. He hummed to himself afterwards, looking down at his finger thoughtfully before shrugging, turning around, and heading back towards John. Cracking his neck, Jim continued, "But if you think you're going to take John away from me, Sherlock, I am afraid I'm going to have to say otherwise." His voice was dark and powerful as he said those final words. Suddenly, a sniper sight landed on top of Sherlock's heart. "I have a soulmate. And I found him. Do you honestly believe that I would just give him up? That you two would go prancing out of here? Really, Sherlock, I thought you were smarter than that."

"Enough of this," John cut in. Both Sherlock and Jim turned to face him. "You two talk as if you both are making all the decisions. As if I'm not here. As if I have no choice. May I remind you, Sherlock, that you weren't the one who just discovered your soulmate. And you, Jim. You just remember that I was a soldier once. If you think I'm just going to roll over on my back because you say so then you're either delusional or in denial. Or both. Now both of you stop measuring the size of your egos for once and just shut up!"

Sherlock appeared startled by John's order while Jim seemed rather amused. A low energy hummed between them still, not as powerful as it had been moments before. Very slowly, John reached out his hand. Jim's eyes flickered down for a brief second before they widened in understanding. He stepped forward and gently pressed two fingers into John's wrist before dragging them down his palm and ring and middle fingers. Gasping, John felt sparks of energy trail in their wake. He looked up and gazed into Jim's intense, chocolate brown eyes. Soulmate. Just as he thought that, Jim firmly gripped his hand in his own, and John yelped at the sudden surge of energy that vibrated between their two hands as their bond surged and solidified a bit more.

"John!" Sherlock called out in alarm.

"I'm fine."

As he looked back up at Jim, he found himself under intense scrutiny. "John, this isn't a usual bond. You know that. You feel it, too," he murmured, his voice low and his Irish lilt suddenly sounding appealing. Another side effect of the currently forming bond. "This is much stronger."

"I have a life," John pointed out.

Jim huffed. "So? You'll continue having one." Glancing back at Sherlock, he took a step closer and hissed, "Do you honestly believe you can walk away from this?"

"Is that a threat?"

Setting his jaw, Jim snapped back, "No, it's not. But don't tempt me. What I am saying is that if you can walk away from me right now, you have your freedom with Sherlock. I won't come after you."

John knew that their bond, which would form over the next 24 hours, could only forge itself through prolonged physical contact. This light touching of hands – cheeks – fingers – none of that was enough to forge an unbreakable bond. Those types of bonds could only be created over time with copious amounts of corporeal interaction, preferably intimate actions such as sexual contact or intercourse, and emotional binding, creating new memories with one another and sharing past experiences. It was, in essence, like a real relationship with the exception of the bond signifying that they were each other's complimenting "other half."

"Deal," John responded.

"I just have one stipulation," Jim said with a smirk.

Before John could ask what it was, Jim yanked him forward, swooped down, and captured John's lips with his own. It felt like fireworks as John moaned and leaned in for more, enjoying the feeling of Jim's fingers digging into his arse. That invisible pull contracted as Jim slipped his tongue into John's mouth, and John gasped as he felt that pleasurable energy transfer into his mouth. Jim tasted like adrenaline, tea, and… apples. It was a strange combination, but John enjoyed it nonetheless. Their bodies slotted perfectly together. It was almost sickening. Slowly, Jim pulled back and broke the kiss, leaving John breathless and pining for more.

It was just the bond, he reminded himself. It was the bond – their destiny invisibly tying them together, trying to keep them together. The feelings from the energy would fade after 24 hours. If John stayed with Jim, there would always be that natural pull. Jim's lips would always feel softer – his taste more pleasing – his voice more soothing – his body more gorgeous – his touch more enjoyable. If he left, no one would really be his centre of devotion. He could have a life, even marry, possibly have kids. But he would always know that something wasn't right. That there was something was missing in his life. And he would know what it was.

"John, come on," Sherlock beckoned. "Let's go and be done with this entire situation."

Jim's eyes bore into John's flesh as John turned towards Sherlock. He wasn't as physically pleasing to John has he had been before – his cheekbones now a bit too angular, his colour far too pale, his hair a touch too long and shaggy… Stepping forward, John felt his heart give a sharp ache. Moriarty had to have been chosen for a reason, right? It's not as if soulmates were flukes. Out of all the stories he had ever heard, both real and fictional, he had never once heard about a couple that didn't complement each other in nearly every way, shape, and form. Part of him longed to find out exactly what it was about Jim Moriarty that made him whole and vice versa.

Sensing John's hesitation, Sherlock said, "Come on, John. Let's go home. To 221b. We'll get Mrs Hudson to make a cuppa, and we'll figure out how to proceed."

John took yet another step towards Sherlock, refusing to glance behind him. His resolve would break. God, who would have thought? He had always wondered what his soulmate was like: male or female, older or younger, serious or humorous… Suddenly, the bond tried to pull him back, as it felt like it was already stretching further than it wanted to. They were supposed to be staying as intimate as possible for the next 24 hours, after all. That's the only way they could properly bond. How their souls would combine to one. What happened after the initial contact always remained a mystery, as it differed for every couple. Some could hear each other's thoughts or feel what emotions their partner was having. Once, there was a couple in which the man was blind, but he could see through his soulmate's eyes.

John looked up at Sherlock and took a third step forward before stopping. God, he already felt miles away from Jim. The bond stretched that much further, and it felt like John was being constricted. His throat was already starting to tighten up, as if he was starting to be choked. "I can't," he said, horror washing over his being. No matter how much he might want to return to Mrs Hudson and 221b and those wild cases with the Yard and to his quiet clinic, he couldn't. He had a soulmate now. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock."

For a split second, Sherlock appeared as if his entire world had come crashing down. John's heart went out to him, but there was nothing he could do about it. Jim was his soulmate, and it was quite literally impossible for him to leave. "I understand," Sherlock murmured, pressing his lips together.

"No, you don't," John softly responded. "But I hope you do someday, Sherlock. I really do. I'll… I'll text you later, alright? Have Mrs Hudson still make that cuppa for you, though."

Shaking his head, Sherlock pressed, "Do you understand what you're doing, John? This is James Moriarty we're talking about. World's only consulting _criminal_."

"Yes, I know," John sighed out, running a hand through his hair. "I _know_, Sherlock. But he's my soulmate. There has to be some reason behind that. Maybe-"

"What? Maybe you can _change_ him?" Sherlock snarled out. Motioning behind John, he snapped, "Look at him, John. He's a psychopath. He is incapable of loving you even with the bond! He's just playing you – playing the bond – trying to take you from me. It's just a game, John." He paused a moment, looking desperate. "Come home."

John felt the bond flicker and wane a touch. "I can't. This bond… it's stronger than I am already. Every step away from him hurts. If I got too far, I would feel like I was choking. My fate's been sealed. And as much as I would like to fight it, I can't. I don't expect you to understand, Sherlock. But I do expect you to respect my decision." Sherlock opened his mouth to object, but John would have none of that. "No, Sherlock, my decision has been made. I will text you within the next 48 hours." Turning on his heels, he glared back at Jim, who was waiting rather quietly for everything to be over with. "You will guarantee him safe passage."

Jim's eyes narrowed as he heard the order, but John would remain firm on this point. Just because Jim was his soulmate didn't mean that John was going to abandon Sherlock. After a moment of silence, Jim said, "Fine." With that, he snapped his fingers and pulled out his phone. He hit something on the screen before raising it up to his ear. "Sebastian. Ensure that Mr Holmes arrives home safely. Am I understood? Good." Pocketing his phone, he looked at John pointedly. "Satisfied?"

"Yes," John conceded. He glanced behind him to find that Sherlock was already gone. Heart sinking, he felt awful. He was Sherlock's first real friend – someone who understood him for who he was – and then this had to happen. At the very least, he would have appreciated a "good night." Then again, maybe this was just a way for Sherlock to cope.

"Oh, Johnny!" Jim called out in a sing-song voice. It didn't sound as irritating as it did before. "Come now. Don't worry too much about Mr Holmes. He'll be fine. Besides, I feel that we have plenty to talk about."

John quietly followed Jim out of the building. Surprisingly enough, they walked out into the parking lot only to find an empty taxi. Confused, John inquired, "Where's the driver?"

"I'm the driver," Jim responded. "Does the cab look familiar to you?" When John gave him a blank look, he hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose it wouldn't. Sherlock was the only one to ride in it, after all."

Everything clicked together. "This is that serial killer's taxi? What was his name again? Jeff?" he inquired, examining it. Being with Sherlock had made him somewhat immune to being completely surprised by this fact.

"Indeed," Jim stated, opening the back door. "After you."

"Thanks." John slipped into the cab as was surprised when Jim got in behind him. "What are you-?" he started to ask when his lips were captured again and his mouth invaded. Energy exploded as their bond swelled from the sudden physical contact. Moaning, John pressed back into the kiss. This time, however, he made sure to plunge his tongue into Jim's mouth in order to get a proper taste. Jim's fingers dug into his arse again as he was drawn closer. Locking his hands in Jim's hair, John slowly explored and mapped out Jim's mouth before breaking the kiss. Their bond was practically thrumming the air around them, and his heart was in his throat. "We need to talk first."

"We'll talk once I know there's no chance of you walking away from me again," Jim snarled possessively before sinking his teeth into John's neck.

Moaning at the sudden rush of ecstasy, John felt his cock twitch eagerly as he was marked by his soulmate. "Fuck!" he exclaimed before shoving Jim back. "No. Talking first."

"What is there to talk about? You're my soulmate. That's the only thing that matters."

John responded, "No, it's not. I have a life, Jim. A life that I enjoy. Friends who care about me. A flatmate who is my closest friend. I'm not willing to give that up just because I found my soulmate, who – by the way – happens to be the world's only consulting _criminal_. I'm not just going to become a trophy wife or locked up in a flat and kept from the world."

"What are you suggesting? That I do not know how to properly protect my soulmate?" Jim retorted, sounding offended.

Surprised by the response, John stuttered, "N-no. I was… I mean…"

"John, one of the keys of my existence is that almost no one knows what I look like. Everything is done through instant messaging, email, or text messages. No one gets to _me_." Jim's eyes glowered dangerously. "And even if they did – if they knew what I looked like and who you were – I would guarantee that they never touched you. I have plenty of resources to pull from. You'll be kept safe. And if you so choose, you will be allowed to keep your old life for the most part." With that, he leaned down to kiss John again.

Keeping their lips apart, John pressed, "What do you mean, for the most part?"

"Do you honestly believe that I'm going to allow my soulmate to move back in with a man who is bound and determined to become my archenemy?" Jim pressed incredulously. "You're moving out of 221b."

"Like Hell. 221b is my home," John bit back.

Jim's eyes flashed in anger. "I can allow you every other part of your life except this one thing. Why do you insist on having everything?"

"Because I don't see you giving up a single damn thing in order to make this work out!" John replied sharply, his own anger flaring. "If you want this to work out, we're going to have to compromise."

"What would you require of me?" Jim inquired softly, pulling back slightly. "That I give up my consulting so it doesn't interfere with your precious morals?"

Already, John hated that mocking tone Jim was using with him. "I would be deluding myself if I thought I could get you to stop consulting altogether. What I want from you, though, is to pull back. If you're working with terrorists, stop. And enough with the petty murders! I won't have you killing innocents because someone botched up your plan. If the plan goes south then let it spiral out of control. Maybe they – or you – shouldn't have been so stupid." God, he had been spending way too much time with Sherlock.

"Me?" Jim echoed in disbelief.

John scowled. "That little old lady? Or did you forget her so quickly? _You_ fucked up, Jim. You let her hear your voice, and then you couldn't stop her from describing it. So then you had her killed. But that's on _your_ shoulders, and I don't want you to forget that."

"She knew what would happen if she didn't follow my instructions!" Jim snapped back.

John cut him off from continuing, "Not interested in your excuses. And I'm unwavering on this fact."

Jim looked more amused than annoyed by what John had just said. "But burglaries, fraud, smuggling, and counterfeiting are still alright?" he pressed.

"I guess so," John conceded, not believing that he had just said that. "Oh! And you have to promise me that you won't harm Sherlock." He knew that it was the least he could do. Who knew? Maybe Sherlock and Jim would find some common ground. It would be nice if he could actually combine his future life with Jim and his life with Sherlock. "There has to be something else you can do to take up your time, right?"

Still appearing amused, Jim hummed and leaned. "That's one way to put it," he whispered in John's ear before nipping the earlobe. John leapt as a jolt of pleasure shot through his body and the bond strengthened for a second. "I suppose I could pull back somewhat. No more bombings. And only military coups and murders under special circumstance. How does that sound?" With that, he lowered his head and licked from John's clavicle up his neck and let out a satisfied hum as John shivered under the small sparks he received from it.

"I have to approve," he countered.

"And in return, you move out of 221b and into my flat."

Faltering a second, John was about to renegotiate when he felt a nip at his Adam's apple. The bond hummed as John let out a low moan. "F-fine," he gasped out, bucking his hips forward in need of more friction. "Fine, fine. I'll move in with you. But I get to visit 221b whenever I wish."

"But no staying the night. I don't care if you're working on a case or not," Jim demanded, thrusting down and giving John that needed contact. The bond surged and strengthened around them in response. "You're going to be in my bed every night from here on out. No exceptions. I'm not one for sharing, you know."

Rolling his eyes, John swallowed hard and shook his head. "Do you want to give me a curfew, Daddy?"

Jim growled and gave a hard grind down before finding a fast, harsh rhythm. Letting out a whimper in response, John instinctively began to move with Jim. Suddenly, the bond began to curl around the two, tightening around them. "I'm being very understanding, John. But do not underestimate my patience." With that, he leaned down and claimed John's lips with his own, his hips never faltering. John moaned when he felt the nip at his bottom lip, and his entire body was filled with ecstasy. He had never felt so good with someone before. Breaking the kiss, Jim responded, "2AM latest, and I am being giving with that. If you get back any later, I might just have to punish you." With that, he pointedly lifted John's hips up and slapped him on the arse.

"So… this is it? I- I figure out an in-between for you and Sherlock as long as I'm always home by 2AM? And you in return back off from some of your more questionable jobs?" John pressed, wanting to make sure everything was clear.

Humming thoughtfully, Jim added, "And you have to have dinner with me at least four times a week."

"Jim-" John started to object.

"Please," Jim added, taking John off guard. He even sounded just a bit desperate.

"Three."

"Four."

"Three and breakfast every morning," John offered with a sigh.

After a second's hesitation, Jim agreed, "Deal."

"Are we good? Can we move on?" John pressed, enjoying the sensations far too much.

"Hm. Yes, I believe so. We can talk more later if need be," Jim responded as he moved forward and began to tower over John, grabbing his hips and sliding him down a bit more on the seat. Suddenly, he leaned down and trailing kisses up John's neck and jawline, leaving little bursts of energy in their wake. "I enjoy watching you squirm underneath me anyway."

John wanted to object, but his mouth was too occupied with moaning to do so. Chuckling, Jim shifted John's legs up, and they instinctively wrapped around Jim's waist. Then, he leaned down and kissed John. Unlike before, though, this time it was tender and sweet with a gentle flow of energy passing between the two of them. He calmly requested for John to allow him to deepen it, sliding his tongue slowly across John's lower lip. Obliging, John moaned as his mouth was filled with Jim's delicious taste once more. But that was nothing compared to the grind Jim gave him. It was rough and precisely done, causing urgency to rush through John's body as the bond began to flood the two of them. It twisted and grew, becoming more powerful with every grind Jim performed.

Gasping, John pressed, "We – oh, fuck, Jim! – we're really going to do this here?"

"Would you rather wait?" Jim inquired, stilling his hips.

Instinctively, John bucked up. "No, no, no. God, no. Don't stop!"

"That's what I thought."

With that, Jim resumed his grinding, pressing down harder. The friction was delicious, although a bit lacking. He would have much preferred Jim's hand on him. Or his mouth. However, he knew better than to bring it up. If Jim thought he was complaining, he might just stop altogether. And then John would be left with a painful hard-on for God knows how long. Their bond continued to surge and grow, tightening around the two of them as it tied them together. Wanting to give back some of what he was receiving, John drew himself up and licked Jim's neck before latching onto the skin, sucking hard in order to leave a hickey. Jim let out a low groan of appreciation before giving a particularly hard buck against John's body. Kissing the mark, John shifted from one side of Jim's neck to the other. The suit was just as much of an obstacle as it was a turn on. After all, Jim wanted him so much that he didn't even want to take the time to remove it.

"I'm going to make you come in that pretty suit of yours," John hissed in Jim's ear before grazing the lobe with his teeth. "And if I do it right, you'll never be able to wear it again."

Jim let out a low moan in response. "Not before I make you come first," he declared, still rutting against John.

And it was probably true. Between the pull of the bond and that wonderful friction, John felt that knot in the pit of his stomach. He was so close. Pulling at Jim's suit jacket, John let out a whimper as he felt himself quickly approach the edge. "Fuck, Jim! Fuck!" he groaned, bucking back up in response. It was enough to send him toppling over the edge. Coming in his pants, John screamed out Jim's name before biting viciously into his neck. Jim screamed out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, going rigid in John's grasp. All at once, the energy between them exploded, causing for John to lose his eyesight for a long moment. Once his senses were back, he looked down to find Jim had collapsed on top of him.

"That was brilliant," John stated matter-of-factly.

Humming, Jim agreed, "Divine." He looked up before pressing a chaste kiss against John's lips. "What do you say to going back to my place, cleaning up, and going for round two?"

"I say get into the driver's seat and get going!"

John woke up in Jim's bed and let out a groan as his lower back ached with his movements. For the remainder of their bonding time, Jim had decided to show John just how much of the Kama Sutra they could perform. Not that John minded, of course, but it left him sore to say the least. Rolling over, he reached out to find no one next to him. Alert, he sat up and looked around the room. The entire flat was silent as far as John could tell. Where the Hell was Jim?

_In the café three doors down._

The instinctive answer that popped into his mind startled him. He paused a moment before thinking the same question once more.

_En route home. Two doors down._

"Holy shit," John whispered as everything clicked together. He had already figured out their special ability – what made their connection different from everyone else's. Of course, it was practical. If Jim were ever harmed, John would be able to sense where he was. And if John ever somehow got kidnapped, Jim would be able to locate him. It was… perfect for them.

After a couple minutes passed, John heard the front door open. "I'm home," Jim announced loud enough for John to hear him but not loud enough to wake him if he was still sleeping.

"I know. Could you come here?" he inquired, making sure it was loud enough for Jim to hear.

Jim appeared in the doorway with a bag on his arm and two cups of coffee in his hands. So he had been where John thought. Suddenly, he smirked. "You look good there."

"I know what our special connection is," John stated, ignoring the comment.

Surprised, Jim inquired, "What is it?"

"We can sense wherever the other person is."

"How?" Jim pressed.

John grinned widely. "By wondering where the Hell I am."

Jim paused a moment, clearly thinking. When his eyes widened, John knew that he had just experienced the same thing. "That's quite… useful."

"Isn't it, though?" John pressed before craning his head to try to see what Jim had bought besides the coffee he held in his hands.

Laughing, Jim brought the bag over. A couple of pastries for breakfast. Nicking one, John bit into it and took the coffee. "Thank you."

"It was nothing."

Suddenly, John heard a familiar chime. "Oh, that's my mobile," he said, moving slowly off the bed to find it. Kicking his jeans, he uncovered it and carefully bent down to pick it up. It was a text. From Sherlock.

_Lestrade called. Has a case. Can I still count on you? –SH_

Sticking the pastry in his mouth, John texted back: _Always. I'll meet you at NSY. –JW_

He bit down on the pastry and swallowed. "I have to go," he announced, grabbing his jumper from the floor. "Sherlock needs me to help him with a case."

Jim frowned. "You promised breakfast every morning."

"Then I'll leave after breakfast," John responded. With that, he shoved the entire pastry in his mouth and barely managed to swallow it without choking. "There you go."

Scowling, Jim responded, "You owe me a dinner if you're going to bail on a proper breakfast with me."

"Fine, fine. Tonight. 6PM."

"8. And wear something nice, would you?" Jim pressed before leaning down and pressing a kiss onto John's cheek. The same cheek where they made their initial contact to begin with. "I'll know where you are if you don't show."

"I already regret telling you what our ability," John noted aloud before picking up his pants. A dull ache shot through his body. "No sex until I can bend over without grimacing, you hear?"

Sighing, Jim rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. Go solve your petty crime."

"Go plan your petty crimes," John retorted, yanking on his jeans.

Somehow, he just knew that everything was going to work in the end. He would slowly change Jim for the better – one step at a time. Who knew? Maybe Sherlock and Jim will wind up becoming best friends. John burst out laughing at the thought as he left the flat.


End file.
